So, a while ago, when the superlicious Sarah was visiting, we had a wee dinner party – on a school night, nogal. Ended up with the smokers in my room having a few cigs out the window. And, after more than a couple of glasses of wine, we weren´t being particularly quiet. Cue the guy from the flat next door poking his head out the window and asking, ever so politely, if we wouldn´t mind keeping it down a little, since he did have work tomorrow. So did we (well, some of us) but in his defence, it was the witching hour.

Cut to a few days later, I had an Amélie moment, and decided to sally forth in the spirit of making friends with the neighbour. So I stuck a note to his door. Can´t remember it verbatim. But it went something like this:

Dear 315

Please accept this sincere, if somewhat tardy, apology for our raucous behaviour on Wednesday night. Do you fancy going for a drink some time this week in recompense? You know where to find us…

Yours in contrition
318

(I considered including something along the lines of “we will never be so noisy again, at least not so late at night”, but didn´t want to make a promise I couldn´t keep.)

A couple of days after this, I received the following :

Thank you for the note.

I´m keen for a drink sometime. I´m not often home so give me a call/text on xxx xxx xxxx & we can arrange to meet.

– Name

So I gave it a few days and texted him. And he didn´t text back. After a week or so, I sent him another text, and he replied and said sorry he´d been busy, and he´d be in touch on the weekend. But he wasn´t…

Whatever: I am like *so* over it. But I don´t quite get it. I mean, this isn´t about him just not being that into me. I was merely extending the offer of a friendly drink. Admittedly, from what I recall, he was fairly cute. However, I´d like to state that in no way did this influence my actions 😉 What puzzles me, is that if he
didn´t want to engage with the noisy, kooky neighbour, why did he give me his number?!

So, the question I´m asking you, my dear readers, is am I weird for instigating the whole note-on-the-door spiel? How would you have responded to such a gesture? I await your comments in anticipation, since I will prolly never be privy to neighbour boy´s view on this matter.

Personally, I feel the fact that I´d rather be having a drink with the mysterious 315 right now than writing about him on my blog shows I´m more human than freak. Pity 315 never bothered to find this out for himself.

Earlier this year I discovered Stuff White People Like, which I know some of you read. I used to quite like the blog and it still makes me laugh, but became rather disenchanted after there was a call for submissions in this post. I duly submitted a piece about Dubai, and never heard back, which pissed me off, because don´t ask people to submit things and then just ignore them. And this was back in the day when there had been only a couple of hundred thousand hits on the blog, rather than the current 50 446 437.

Anyway, I thought it was about time I posted my humble effort on my own blog – read it with a large dose of salt 😉

White people like going to Dubai in general, because they can claim to have visited the Middle East – but without putting themselves in any danger. They can also experience staying in a Muslim country – but are still able sip the odd glass of wine while they’re there.

Most especially, white people like going on a desert safari. This makes their experience more “authentic” and also shows them to be superior to other people who go to Dubai purely for the shopping. The desert safari gives white people the chance to engage in many of their favourite past times all in one package.

Dune bashing. White people like this activity, because it enables them to fulfill their fantasies of being a rugged “Camel Man” adventurer.

Camel riding. This emphasises the white person’s “daredevil” nature, and is sure to impress any other white person who’s only ever ridden a horse.

Watching the sunset. There is nothing that white people like so much as watching the sunset, especially if it in an exotic location.

Henna tattoos. White people like getting henna tattoos, because it shows they are hip enough to acquire the symbols of another culture. Bonus: the tattoo only lasts a week, so they needn’t be embarrassed when they return to their corporate job after the holiday.

Dressing up in Arabic clothes. This makes for a great picture to show folks back home. White people will also feel this gives them an “insider” perspective when discussing the clothing of Muslim women. Note:a white person can gain even more credibility by telling their friends they didn’t partake in this activity because they felt it was “culturally insensitive”.

Smoking sheeshah. This gives any white person a chance to return to their college days. It is also an excuse for them to have a smoke: because it is a traditional activity in a foreign country, smoking sheeshah doesn’t have the same stigma attached to it as smoking cigarettes.

Eating a traditional Arab meal. This ties in with white people’s love of diversity as expressed through food. The fact that they can eat in a tent in the desert adds even more value for them.

Watching a belly dancing show. For white people, travelling isn’t only about adventure: they also need to experience the “local culture”, and watching belly dancing provides their necessary fix.The fact that the belly dancers are likely to be Russian is of no importance.

Proper things to say about it:“The Bedouin lifestyle is so simple and Romantic. In another life I would like to be a nomad.” On no account mention the fact that Indian, Pakistani and Philippino workers are exploited in Dubai: white people don’t want their holiday to be tainted by this fact. If you really want to impress a white person, say: “I went to Dubai during Ramadaan. Being in a Muslim country at this time was a very spiritual experience.”

On my day off last week, I went and had lunch with the lovely Dom at Hyde Park. She had to get back to work; I didn´t. I had a glass of wine; she didn´t. I mean, if you can´t drink wine at lunch on your day off, when can you? And I hadn´t had a shopping binge since I was in London last year…

At Oil & Vinegar:White balsamic vinegar and truffle oil for Mim, because you can´t buy presents only for yourself. Granted, I´m the one who´s going to cook with these ingredients. But Mim and Pim will reap the culinary rewards. Actually, we had a gorgeous dish of chicken, grapes and almonds with white balsamic vinegar and truffle oil last night.

At Look & Listen:
Fight for your mind by Ben Harper. I know I should´ve bought it years ago, and I also know I have several friends who would´ve willingly burnt it for me. But I just wanted it now. Like, right now! In fact, I´m listening to it has I type. And I can´t help remembering the first time I listened to Jack Johnson in a friend´s car and I said: “Who is this?” and he said: “Jack Johnson – he´s like Ben Harper, but better.” Not to knock Jack Johnson, but my friend was wrong.Pata Pata by Miriam Makeba. I was deeply troubled when I came home from work last Monday and realised I didn´t own a single recording by Mama Afrika. Now I do. Btw, Kim is editing a documentary about Miriam´s work with landmine victims in Mozambique. I´ll let you know when it´s showing.The Bends by Radiohead. Kim used to own the album. I don´t know where her copy disappeared to. “Wish it was the sixties, wish I could be happy. ” Nuff said.Joy Division 1977-1980 by, um, Joy Division. Been meaning to pick up some tunes ever since I watched an excellent documentary about the band at Encounters earlier in the year…

At Hilton Weiner:
A lovely pair of pumps. For the record, they were on sale.

“Well,” I thought to myself after this shopping spree, “I have shown admirable restraint by not entering the book store and my bank balance can be grateful that Hyde Park doesn´t boast The Space, Big Blue, or Sowearto.”

I thought too soon… Next thing I´d met up with ABJ and his mim and we were off to Sandton City. We happened to walk past Jo Borkett, and all resistance crumbled… I´ve always wanted to have a Jo Borkett dress and, while I´d had no fantasies about owing a bangle to match said dress, I discovered that I very much wanted one of those too. Perhaps I´ll post a pic sometime.

For weeks my friend Eszter had been telling me about the cardboard house the architecture students were designing to be used as a workshop. Cardboard as a building material? Coming from South Africa, it didn´t seem that far out.

But there necessity, rather than choice, dictates its use. And since Liechtenstein is far from impoverished, I was somewhat perplexed as to what the architecture school was up to. Try as I might, I couldn´t imagine any construction other than the most ramshackle affair.

But I went along to the grand opening; and it was curiosity rather than the free wine, which dried up regrettably soon, that motivated me. Suddenly, there it was, stood before me: an igloo palace of cardbord and (de)light; the epitome of functional grace. And the only poverty was that of my imagination.